


Wish Come True

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Era, Christmas, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Mistletoe, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: It's Christmas. Flint doesn't care. He doesn't want anything at all - except that one thing he can't have.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	Wish Come True

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Silverflint Holiday Challenge, inspired by Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas".

It was Christmas Eve.

That was what the calendar said, at any rate. Flint wasn't sure there _could_ be a Christmas at all under the scorching sun, far away from the lands that first celebrated it. Christmas certainly made no sense to him since Miranda's death. Even before that, it had been long since Flint hadreally cared about it.

He remembered one glorious snowy Christmas in London with Thomas and Miranda, but that felt like a lifetime ago. snow had once been a wonder to wish for, but tempting as it was in the midst of the West Indies heat, that too belonged to another time and place.

Flint had loved gifts, though. Finding something that would make Miranda's eyes glitter. Receiving a precious book, perhaps with an even more precious inscription. Now he could hear the crewmen chatter as they worked, discussing what they'd give their favourite girl in the brothel, what they'd get each other, dropping hints and chuckling as they made others guess what they'd got them.

Flint's ears pricked up and his heart beat a little faster when he heard them talk about what they could do for their Quartermaster this Christmas. If there was something on his mind at the moment, it wasn't snow or gifts. It was dark curls and a pendant resting on golden skin. It was eyes blue as sapphires and a velvet voice. It was the warmth Silver had brought back into his life, after Flint had given up all hope.

Silver chose this moment to walk up beside him, his iron boot clunking on the deck. Flint didn't turn to look at him, buying himself time to stamp down the longing that had suddenly risen inside of him.

“They look happy,” Silver said. “Did you know they're decorating the lower deck?”

Flint turned to him, meeting blue eyes that glittered merrily. “How?”

“I let them hang up those palm fronds we had for the goat's bedding, and they piled up oranges in a bowl. It looks festive.”

“Until a squall rocks the ship and wrecks it all.”

Silver chuckled. “Have I ever told you how awfully cynical you are?”

It was impossible for Flint not to smile at him. He remembered a conversation that seemed to have taken place ages ago, when Silver was young and careless and insufferable. Silver must have remembered too. He grinned back brightly.

“Well, what about you, Captain? What do _you_ want for Christmas?”

Silver bit his lower lip as he asked the question, and all Flint could think about for a second was capturing that lip with his own teeth.

 _You_.

Flint blinked, a sinking feeling dragging through his stomach. Had he merely thought it or had he said that out loud? Silver's eyes had subtly changed – they were wider, less merry.

“You, Mr Quartermaster,” he said gruffly, desperately trying not to stutter, “are under the false assumption that I give a shit about Christmas.”

A smile spread on Silver's face, but it was tense and false, reminiscent of the terrified grins he used to give Flint in the early days. “Fair enough. Less work for us, I suppose.”

“Speaking of which,” Flint said, “I'd better tell DeGroot to tack east if we want to be back in Nassau for Christmas Day.”

To burn off the embarrassment of his near-confession, Flint made it his business to be the Captain everyone knew and despised. After a conversation with DeGroot in which he was only marginally courteous, he snapped at Billy about the state of the decks, shouted at the crew, and grumbled at Silver for having disappeared god-knew-where while the crew messed about. Silver responded with an infuriating smile and an “aye aye Captain” which threatened to make Flint blush.

As night began to fall, Flint slunk back into his cabin and collapsed onto his hanging cot, covering his face in both palms. He took a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated groan. Christmas was a time of madness, after all. Whether in England or in the West Indies, people couldn't help but think of what they longed for at this time of year, carried away by the inane hope that miracles always happened at Christmas.

In the distance, sailors' voices rose. Flint recognised _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_ , and gave a wistful sigh. It sounded out of place here in these balmy waters, but it carried its own kind of peace. Everyone, even hardened pirates, dreamed of comfort and joy from time to time. Everyone, even Flint.

It wasn't for him, Flint told himself. He had a war to fight, and that was the only thing he should be dreaming about. He definitely shouldn't be dreaming about Silver's smile, about Silver sliding into the room, and then into his cot, and finally into his arms.

Someone cleared their throat. Flint sat up, flustered, ready to give an earful to whoever had entered his cabin without knocking.

It was Silver. Somehow he'd managed to sneak up to the cabin and open the door without making a sound. He stood in the door frame, watching Flint with an amused expression on his face. He was a fucking picture, all dishevelled curls and mischievous eyes. How dare he be so tempting, when Flint felt so weak?

“What?”

“It appears you're waiting under the mistletoe.”

Flint heard the words, but they made no sense. His brow creasing in puzzlement, he followed Silver's gaze and looked up.

Tied to a beam above his cot was a little bundle that looked both familiar and strange. There were leaves, and there were white berries, true enough. But the leaves were the faded green of dried palm fronds, and the berries– the berries were pearls. Someone had _crafted_ this so-called mistletoe.

Questions crowded Flint's mind. Was this what the men were making below deck – with _pearls_? Why would someone go to such trouble only to place it in his cabin? If it was meant to induce kissing, Flint couldn't imagine any of the crew keen on that, except perhaps Madi if Silver charmed her into it. But she wasn't even on board in this particular voyage. Who'd made this then, and why had they put it _t_ _here_?

“Well?” Silver asked.

Flint's eyes flicked back to Silver, who was standing right beside his cot now. The air suddenly grew thick.

“That's not mistl–”

Flint had barely started speaking before Silver rushed forward. Soft lips cut Flint off, an eager mouth swallowing the end of his sentence. Huge, hot palms cupped Flint's cheeks and all Flint could do was moan.

For once in a long time, Flint's mind went completely, euphorically blank. He didn't think. He didn't question. He merely pulled Silver closer, dragging him into his lap. Silver wrapped his arms around him, clinging to him tight. Flint twined his fingers in Silver's hair, devouring his mouth. God, he'd been _starving_.

They broke apart, panting, foreheads and noses still pressed together. Silver was gripping the back of Flint's neck, his fingertips setting Flint on fire. Flint squeezed Silver close, unable to let him go now that he'd tasted those lips.

“Merry Christmas Captain,” Silver murmured against Flint's lips. “Do you like your gift?”

“I love it,” Flint whispered back, kissing Silver again.

Only then did he realise what he'd just said. He elected to distract himself from the horrible pang that went through his chest by pressing kisses along Silver's jaw, down his throat, sliding his tongue into the dip between his collarbones. Soon he was engrossed in Silver's warm skin, in the soft sounds he made, in Silver's fingers stroking his shorn scalp. It was the sweetest oblivion he could imagine.

“May I unwrap my gift?” Flint asked, already tugging at the bottom of Silver's shirt.

Silver gave a weak chuckle. “If you must.”

Flint looked up at him, hands resting at his waist, heart twisting anxiously at Silver's resistance.

“The stump's not… you know,” Silver mumbled, eyes shifting away from Flint's gaze.

It was unlikely anything Flint could say would help Silver feel better about that part of his body, so he said nothing. Instead, he pressed his lips against Silver's again, kissing him softly, burying his hands in Silver's curls. He ran his hands down Silver's chest and began unbuckling his belt, slowly, leaving Silver ample time to tell him to stop.

Silver's breath was coming in fitful gasps. He shivered as the belt came open and Flint laid it aside, then loosened Silver's shirt from his breeches and rucked it up around his chest. Flint drew back from Silver's lips only long enough to let Silver pull his shirt off over his head. Then he was kissing Silver again, sloppy and hot and hungry.

Soon Silver was lying on the cot, stretched out and moaning as Flint mapped out his body with his hands and worried his nipples between his teeth. Flint couldn't imagine a better gift than the salt of Silver's sweat and the scent of his arousal. His mouth moved south even as he pushed Silver's trousers down his hips. Silver eagerly helped him, his stump all but forgotten.

Flint settled between Silver's legs, and all he could think was that this was a wish come true. Long had his thoughts strayed to the soft skin inside Silver's thighs, to the trail of dark hair along his belly, to what his cock might look like when he was straining with need. Now it was within his reach at last. Flint took the sight in with a delighted shudder, breathing the scent of Silver's musk, lowering himself to taste his skin.

The sounds Silver made as Flint explored his cock with his lips were nearly too much to bear. Flint ached in his breeches as he licked and teased Silver's cockhead, as he cupped his tightening balls, as he swallowed Silver down deep into his mouth. Silver choked down cries and Flint moaned around him, barely able to breathe and not caring one whit. Silver was hot and hard and twitching against his tongue, and this was all Flint had wanted for a long time.

“God, wait!”

Flint pulled off Silver's cock, inexplicably smug at the popping noise it made when he released it. Silver was gripping the cot, obviously trying to will himself not to come quite yet. His flushed cock twitched on his belly, his hair was a mess, and a light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin. He was a fucking beautiful sight to behold.

“Come here,” Silver managed to gasp, holding a hand out to Flint.

Flint joined him, capturing his lips again in the lewdest of kisses. Everything his mouth would have done to Silver's cock, he did to Silver's tongue instead. Silver clung to him, moaning, gasping, trembling hands trying and failing to unbuckle Flint's belt while they kissed.

After a while, Flint relented. Lips only brushing Silver's now, he helped Silver undress him. He got his belt off and breathlessly unbuttoned his breeches while Silver's hands slid beneath his shirt and explored his chest and back. For a moment Flint had to close his eyes against the sensation. It had been so fucking long anyone had touched him like this, gentle and curious, wonder on their face.

Then Silver was drawing him down onto the cot and rolling onto him, slotting himself between Flint's thighs. His cock, still obscenely hard, pressed against Flint's hip, while Flint's cock rubbed against Silver's soft stomach, trapped between their bodies. It was all he could do not to moan aloud. They kissed again, Flint's hands tangling in Silver's hair until he was cradling his skull, Silver's palms trailing down Flint's body until one of them wrapped around his cock.

Flint bucked up into Silver's grip, a drop of precum rolling down his shaft as Silver started jerking him. Silver kissed him frenziedly, breathing down his throat in short gasps, his teeth catching Flint's lips, his tongue filling Flint's mouth. Flint's hips arched off the mattress, following his cock, following the pleasure that was building in his lower belly.

Silver's hand shifted, its grip loosening only a moment, to allow him to slide his own cock alongside Flint's. The heat of it, the rub of its head against Flint's, sent shudders through Flint's spine. His thighs twitched, tightening around Silver's hips. Their kissing turned half-crazed as Silver moved against him, pumping them both in his thick fingers.

Flint came with a choked cry, throwing back his head lest he drown in his own pleasure, seed landing hot on his stomach. Silver gave a delighted moan, still squeezing Flint's cock against his own. A few more thrusts and he was coming too, gasping into Flint's ear and spilling himself onto him.

Slowly releasing their cocks from his grip, Silver slid aside a little, to let Flint breathe, but pressed his face into the crook of Flint's shoulder. They lay together, tangled and breathless and blissful.

Laughter filtered in from the lower deck, mingled with a few more Christmas carols – somewhat more drunken than before. Now that Flint was revelling in the happy glow of what they'd just shared, those sounds brought a smile to his lips.

There would be questions, later, and things to sort out. But now, Flint didn't want to think. He'd got all he wanted, and planned on savouring it a little longer.

“You know, you never asked me what _I_ wanted for Christmas,” Silver told Flint, a smirk spreading on his lips.

Flint chuckled and tucked a stray curl behind Silver's delicate ear. “Well, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Hmm,” Silver said, reclining in the cot and staring up at the ceiling. “I want… a million dollars in Spanish gold.”

Flint guffawed unexpectedly, the sound alien to his ears.

“And I want, well, a hat with enormous feathers in it, and a diamond ring, and a pony to ride about town, and one of those big red parrots that can learn to talk, and...”

His cheek pressed to Silver's forehead, Flint closed his eyes and let Silver's rumbling voice carry him into sweet dreams.


End file.
